


Baby, it’s cold outside.

by EsculentEvil



Series: EsculentEvil's BatJokes Shots [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Blanket Fic, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Snow and Ice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 03:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16845847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EsculentEvil/pseuds/EsculentEvil
Summary: The Joker’s freezing his butt off on a rooftop; Batman warms him up.Originally posted on my Tumblr @esculentevil





	Baby, it’s cold outside.

**Author's Note:**

> Warning(s): canon typical violence (mostly in Joker’s head) and strange/awkward wording on the occasion (meant to reflect Joker’s psychopathy/inability to be “normal”).  
> Note(s): This was originally a fan script but, due to the heavy narration, I decided to rewrite it as a fanfic, instead. Hope you enjoy! Also, while doing the tags for this, I realized the weird perfection of the fact that the Frank Loesser song this ficlet is named after was written in 1944... So this might be a Golden Age BatJokes fic but hell if I really know.

It’s the dead of night in Gotham City.

The moon hangs low in the sky, a mere crescent staining a canvas of black, and casts a dim glow over the graveyard of souls bustling below it. Sirens blare as the Commissioner and his pigs race down streets and up avenues. They’re trying their best to find a very colorful villain; on a rooftop overlooking the city, however, stands that very villain... where they aren’t looking for him.

In their defense, though, the Joker is also not as colorful as he usually is.

This is due to the fact that he’s not in his customary purple suit, orange button-up, green bow-tie, and monochrome shoes. Instead, he is in prison garb; Arkham Asylum prison garbs, to be more precise. This is the direct consequence of a less than stellar escape (on his part).

So is his lack of a getaway vehicle (this part is Harley’s).

It should arrive soon enough, though (hopefully).

* * *

Several buildings away, Batman is patrolling his city alone.

Robin is back at home with Alfred and a cold, swaddled in thick blankets, a sweater, and love. He will most likely recover quickly, Bruce knows—as colds are not that bad if handled swiftly (which Alfred Pennyworth always does)—but, for now, he’s under strict orders from both his adopted father and adopted grandfather to rest at home.

They are all eagerly awaiting his return, though.

The Bat spots the Joker by chance on his second round through the streets and grits his teeth in a queer mix of vexation and excitement. The sirens he had noted earlier now make sense; what doesn’t is why he was not alerted to  **his**  nemesis running amuck in his city! As though hoping he just somehow missed it, Batman turns his eyes skyward and stares.

There is still no Bat Signal.

He glowers and grapples over.

* * *

The moment the familiar sound of Batman's grappling gun pierces his eardrums, the Joker jolts up and attempts to escape.

His choices are limited, however: he can either leap onto another building and start a rooftop chase across the city before, eventually, blowing something up as a distraction or an alert to Harley so she can pick him up; or he can make it to the fire escape on his right and loose the vigilante in the maze of alleyways littering the otherwise grid-like city. He ends up collapsing before he can really make a choice, though, as his body is frozen and, thus, unable to move.

Batman lands beside his fallen form.

He doesn’t speak at first; and, as normal as his silence is, it becomes extra strange when it’s not filled by his antithesis’ chilling laughter. This causes the darker of the two to eye the Joker critically. In a moment, he notices several things that, to his chagrin, soften him: the Joker is still in his Arkham wear which is thin and does nothing to protect him; it is the end of autumn and the snow of winter is just on the horizon; if something does not happen soon, the lipstick of the fallen villain will hide the horrid blue of his lips beneath.

Batman sighs heavily, “... How'd you get out this time, Joker?”

The Joker laughs weakly but shrilly at the question, knowing the Bat is really asking how many he killed to get out. The truth is: he lost count (Or maybe I just didn’t bloody care enough. Bloody. Ha!). Knowing better than to actually say that when he is so unable to defend himself—and without any confirmation that Harley is on her way to bail him out—the evil clown says nothing.

Thus, Joker's silence speaks louder than words.

Hearing the unspoken answer, Batman sighs and shakes his head. The illuminated eyes of his cowl hide trace amounts of concern as he kneels beside the fallen clown and grabs the wrist nearest to him. Joker doesn't fight—or, perhaps, he simply can't—as his thin body is pulled closer to his enemy than he’s ever gotten before (at least consciously or without serious physical damage imminent). The Kevlar suit is cold against his shaking form and does nothing to warm him up but he says nothing about it. The Bat still notices, for course, and frowns; he then makes an odd decision that surprises even him.

The evil clown, reluctantly nestled in strong arms, jolts and gasps through his teeth as his entire body is wrapped up in thick, black cloth—the Bat's cape—before being swung through the air by his un-caped crusader; and if, when asked later by the Commissioner, aforementioned Bat claims that this act was just to ensure the villain was bound in some way, they’ll both know it isn’t true.

For his part: the Joker is not cold as he's returned to Arkham Asylum; and if he’s too out of it to register the fact that he's already fully thawed long before they even make it to the madhouse, he’s also not cognitive enough to ignore the fact that he only did it to be wrapped up in the Bat and his cape for just a bit longer.


End file.
